


How It Could Have Gone

by CuteLittleMousie



Category: Relic Keel - lumosinlove
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Aid, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 22:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteLittleMousie/pseuds/CuteLittleMousie
Summary: How we all wish the last scene in chapter 8 of Relic Keel went
Relationships: Saint/Luke Deveaux





	How It Could Have Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lumosinlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosinlove/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Relic Keel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391376) by [lumosinlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosinlove/pseuds/lumosinlove). 



Saint thought that he loved Sirius, but then he met Luke. He knew who Luke Deveaux was of course, how could he not? Everybody knew about his father. And at first he despised him, he was a god, how could he not? With their privilege and never knowing difficulties. But then he got to know Luke, really got to know him. And fuck Luke made him feel things. Not the feelings he felt for Sirius, that was a different type of love. 

And he couldn’t stay away from him. At first stealing his things was enough, nicking his watch, stealing his car; small things. But then that wasn’t enough anymore. The teasing that had been mocking at first but now was playful, the feel of Luke’s hands in his, all of their interactions were running through his head as he walked towards Deveaux Manor. He found himself making his way up to Luke’s windowsill, artfully scaling his way up, ignoring the stinging pain in his ribs and the overall numbness in his mind. The aftershocks of his panic attack (which he was not calling a panic attack thank you very much) were still running through his body. His adrenaline was wearing off and his ribs, which was starting to become something he could ignore completely to something that was nagging on the edge of his mind. He had made it to the ledge now, and somehow slumped against the window frame in a way very unlike himself; his fingers grasping at his scratches. Luke was sitting on his bed staring at something in his hand, most likely the letter from his father. 

Saint stayed still for a moment, trying to calm his breathing and attempting to make his presence unknown. His heart clenched in his chest at the pained expression on Luke's face. Obviously, something in the letter wasn't what he had wanted to see. Saint wondered what it was, and, without thinking, opened his mouth to ask. "Hey."

Luke twisted around, startled. “Oh my god. Are you kidding me?” Saint’s lips turned upwards into a grin, though it seemed kinda forced. “What’s wrong with you?” Luke rubbed his hands down his face. 

Saint laughed, “A lot of things.” 

Luke scanned Saint, looking for the cause of his discomfort. He noticed the blood between his fingers and jumped up, automatically worried. “What the hell happened?”

“I fell down a chimney.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No.” 

Luke’s eyes widened. “That’s how you got into Saint Clair? And you climbed to my window after? While you were hurt? Do you have no sense of self preservation?”

Instead of answering Saint pulled himself through the window, groaning softly. Luke scurried over to Saint’s side, placing his hands on the other boy’s shoulders in an attempt to help. Saint jumped and sent Luke a cold glare, causing Luke to remove his hands. 

“What about the orphan?” Saint sent Luke another dirty look, causing Luke to quickly correct himself. “Finn? Is that his name?” 

“Yeah, Sirius is taking him back to Grimmauld.”

“What’s Grimmauld?”

Saint collapsed into Luke’s desk chair, his hand still on his side. No matter how much he liked Luke he wasn’t giving up the location of Grimmauld. Well, at least not yet. “A place.” Saint picked up a book off Luke’s desk, Jane Eyre. His mouth quirked up into a small smile. “Didn’t take you for a romantic.” 

Luke wanted to roll his eyes but he refused to give Saint that satisfaction. Instead he opted to deflect the comment. “You’re bleeding all over my room.” 

Saint didn’t even look up. “Lucky you.”

Luke did roll his eyes this time. “Just, come here.” He tucked the note into his pocket and headed into his bathroom. When he noticed Saint didn’t follow him he called again, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I am coming,” Saint quoted as he stood. “Wait for me! Oh, I will come!” He threw the book gently back onto Luke’s desk.

“Hilarious,” Luke deadpanned, but the corner of his mouth rose slightly, betraying him. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a reader.”

“Why?” Saint stepped into the bathroom, the warm light reflecting in his eyes and giving them a golden hue; it made them look softer than they normally did, but it was hard to miss the sharpness that was telling Luke to tread lightly. Saint pulled himself onto the sink counter, being careful not to anger his side more. “Because I don’t buy my books?” 

Luke raised an eyebrow as he retrieved the first aid kit he kept below his sink. “Because you didn’t go to school.” 

Saint sighed. “There are other ways to learn you know. You gods are so close minded.”

Luke started to unlatch the first aid kit. “Why are you here then?”

Saint spoke before he could register what he was saying; before he could think it through and realize how much of a bad idea it was. “Because I like you more than I should.” 

Luke looked up from where he was wetting a towel in the sink. “What does that mean?”

Saint sighed. “It doesn’t matter, it didn’t mean anything.” 

“Saint.” Luke set the towel down in the sink. “What did that mean?” 

“What do you think it meant?”

Luke's eyes met Saint's, then flickered downwards. "I know what I want it to mean," he said quietly, "but I don't want to say it and find out I'm wrong."

“Hey,” Saint whispered. Luke slowly looked at Saint. “What if I want it to mean that too?” 

“I,” Luke’s eyes filled with disbelief. “I’m not sure I’d believe you.”

If you asked them who leaned in first they wouldn’t know. But then they were kissing. And Saint’s hands were in Luke’s hair, the way they were when he came to from Crucio. Luke’s hands were around Saint’s waist, bringing the two of them as close as physically possible. When they eventually pulled away from each other, both of them were smiling. 

“Do you believe me now?” Saint asked, mischief in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Luke leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “You’re a filthy orphan you know that?”

Saint laughed. “And you’re a spoiled brat. And for some reason I still like you.”

“Fuck off.” Luke playfully swatted at Saint, who twisted to get away, accidentally twisting his chest, causing him to flinch; it was small, but Luke still noticed. “Shit, let’s get those cleaned up yeah?” Saint nodded, and Luke pressed a small kiss to the corner of his lips before grabbing the towel from the sink and backing up just enough to give Saint room to remove his blood-stained shirt. 

His eyes lingered on Saint’s tan torso before meeting Saint’s eyes again. “Shut up.” 

“Wasn’t going to say anything.”

Luke lined up the bandages and disinfectant. “This is gonna sting a little.” He pressed the damp towel into the scratches, causing Saint to hiss. After that it was a quick process, dabbing on the disinfectant, bandaging the wounds, and kissing the bandage. 

“Thanks,” Saint whispered, and leaned in to peck Luke on the lips. 

Luke brought him in for a longer kiss, before pulling away and taking Saint’s hand. “Come on, it’s late. Let’s get some sleep.” Luke led Saint back into his bedroom, where the two boys shared kisses for a while before falling asleep, curled around each other.


End file.
